


Trust Fall

by doop_doop



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Being Walked In On, Canon-Typical Violence, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Post-Time Skip, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25873534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doop_doop/pseuds/doop_doop
Summary: Linhardt stumbles across Felix in a compromising position - and offers a helping hand. It marks the beginning of something strange and messy and complicated, and Felix quickly finds himself way out of his depth.What does he mean to Linhardt? What does Linhardt mean to him? And what is Linhardt getting out of this whole thing, anyway?
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 14
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The premise sounds like a joke, but write I took it very seriously in the fic itself.
> 
> This whole thing is super self-indulgent, but I'm posting it in the hope that someone else enjoys it as well.

Felix went to the training grounds before sunrise almost every day. If he didn’t get at least an hour of training in before anyone else came, it felt like a waste. He’d wake up when the only light in the sky was a smudge of gray on the horizon and savor the utter quiet. 

This particular day was no different: Felix had woken up early, made his way to the training grounds, and hacked away for maybe three-fourths of an hour before he allowed himself to take his first break. 

Often during these morning training sessions Felix was filled with a strange, jittery energy. He was almost on-edge, in a good way - like he could feel every pump of his heart, every drop of sweat on his skin. But sometimes his body reacted in ways he couldn’t understand and did not enjoy. Sometimes it overreacted; sometimes the energy he felt was too much. 

Sometimes, when he was training, he got hard. 

He’d been this way since he was a teenager; it was doubly embarrassing that this habit persisted even into his twenties, because he’d hoped for years he’d outgrow it. It wasn’t that training  _ aroused  _ him, per se - it was just that blood was rushing through  _ everything, _ that the straining of his muscles made him feel so awake and alive and his dick just kind of… reacted. 

Felix sighed and breathed deeply, trying to will his dick to calm down. As long as it stayed like this, he couldn’t focus on training; he was wasting valuable time.

_ Obnoxious, _ Felix thought. On the whole, he liked his body, but at times like this he couldn’t stand it.

When his desire to get back to training finally overpowered his sense of shame, he sighed and shuffled behind a pillar, in order to make himself invisible to anyone who came into the training grounds. The only people who’d ever join him this early would be Caspar and Raphael, anyways, and he’d hear their footsteps from a mile away. 

Felix pulled his pants down just enough to expose his cock and began to jerk himself off. He started off fast and hard - the goal was just to get it over with. This was a biological need, like eating or pissing; the only difference was, this one happened to feel good. But, like eating or pissing, mostly it just caused Felix annoyance.

He’d hardly been at it for ten seconds when he heard a voice: “What are you doing?”’

It wasn’t loud, but it was shocking in its closeness. Felix jumped in surprise, painfully conscious of his still-very-hard dick hanging out of his pants. 

In front of him stood Linhardt. His eyes traveled up and down Felix’s body as if taking him in, and Felix felt himself flush with shame.

“No need to stop on my account,” Linhardt said.

Felix stared at him, his eyes wide. Somehow the shock of the confrontation hadn’t even made him go soft, which was doubly shameful. “I thought I was alone. You came out of nowhere,” Felix said quickly, as if that could explain why he’d been doing this in the training grounds to begin with. “I was listening for footsteps - I didn’t hear you coming…”

Linhardt nodded. “I’ve been here for a little while.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m waiting for Caspar. I have to ask him something, but I didn’t want to wake him. I know this will be the first place he goes when he wakes up, so I figured I’d just pass the time here.” 

“Oh.” 

“As I said, don’t feel the need to stop on my account,” Linhardt said, gesturing casually towards Felix’s crotch. “And if you don’t mind, I’d even watch you. I’ve never seen anyone else do that, and I’m intrigued.”

“You’d  _ watch me?” _

“Why do you sound so shocked? I can only assume you were doing that here because you enjoy the idea that someone might stumble across you accidentally. I’m sure you didn’t expect it to be  _ me, _ but-”

“I wasn’t -  _ no,” _ Felix said, baffled by the idea. “No, I just - I wanted to keep training - I wanted to take care of this.” Why he was explaining himself to Linhardt, he had no idea, but Felix supposed he did owe him some explanation for trying to jerk off in such a strange place. 

“Understandable,” Linhardt said, and nodded, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Would you like me to leave? I’m serious when I say you can feel free to carry on. Or-” Suddenly his eyes widened, taking on a slightly crazed expression. “Or would you like my help?”

_ “What?” _

“I’ve masturbated plenty before, of course. I’m sure the principle of the thing is the same whether you’re applying it to your own body or someone else’s, no? And perhaps it will be more pleasurable to have someone else do the work for you - you’ll have to let me know.”

Felix was too stunned to answer. For a long moment the two of them stared at one another - Felix’s hand still clutching his dick, Linhardt’s expression curious and plaintive.

“Can I?” Linhardt asked again. And, somehow, Felix found himself actually believing Linhardt was being sincere. He gave a single sharp nod and pulled his hand away. 

Linhardt’s hand replaced it, his long, pale fingers wrapping slowly around Felix’s dick. His hand was colder than Felix’s had been, and it was a shock to have someone else touching him there - quite unlike anything Felix had ever known.

As Linhardt began to move, his eyes flitted back and forth between Felix’s face and dick. “How does it feel?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious. “Is there a difference in sensation from when you do it yourself?”

Felix couldn’t do much more than moan. Getting jerked off was overwhelming enough as it was; he certainly couldn’t handle answering questions at the same time. 

Maybe Linhardt realized that. He fell silent, his hand picking up speed, and Felix leaned his head back against the pillar, chest heaving. 

Just a few minutes ago he’d been  _ hoping _ for a fast orgasm, but now that he could already feel his climax coming on, it didn’t seem like a good thing anymore. Everything was all jumbled in his brain, shame and pleasure and self-loathing; Felix couldn’t tell if he wanted to drag it out because he was enjoying it, or if he was simply embarrassed to be coming so quickly. 

Once he was past a certain point, though, there was nothing he could do. He felt his orgasm tear through him as he writhed with his back against the pillar, heard his own voice making disgusting moans of pleasure. Linhardt kept going through Felix’s climax, then pulled his hand away just before Felix’s cock began to grow oversensitive.

Felix had been staring upwards with his eyes focused on nothing, but now he turned his gaze towards Linhardt, who was looking at his own hand. The reality of what they’d just done hit Felix head-on: he was standing in the training grounds with his dick hanging out of his pants and his cum all over Linhardt’s hand, and Linhardt was looking at the stuff like it was a new spell or a page from an ancient tome. It was utterly disgusting. 

As the feeling of lightheaded pleasure faded away, Felix was left with only shame. He yanked his pants up, tightened them with shaking hands. “I’m going.”

Linhardt looked up in surprise. “Would you mind answering a few questions?”

“No,” Felix said. “I mean, yes. I would mind. I’m not going to answer your stupid questions.”

At that, Linhardt seemed to sag. “Well, alright. I enjoyed myself, in any event.” 

“You-”

“And if you ever would like to do that again, please do let me know.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiped his hand on it, and tucked it away again. Then he walked over to a bench and sat down.

Felix realized Linhardt actually was still going to wait there for Caspar.  _ Damn it, _ he thought - he couldn’t go back to training, not without Linhardt’s eyes on him. So he put his sword away, took another drink of water, and left the training grounds, his head spinning.

\---

Felix couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened; he replayed the scene in his head over and over again, trying to make some sense of it. Something like that occurring was so outside the realm of possibility for him, he’d never given a moment’s thought to what he’d do if it did happen. And now here he was: stunned, confused, and  _ irritated. _

He decided to confront Linhardt now that he’d gotten his bearings, to properly ask him why in the world he’d done what he’d done - but, infuriatingly, Linhardt was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t in his room, or the library, or the dining hall; he wasn’t back in the training grounds or even with Caspar. And when Felix asked, Caspar said they hadn’t talked since that morning. For all intents and purposes, Linhardt had just… vanished.

After Felix had burned through half the day searching for him, he took a break and went to dinner - and just as he was sitting down at an unoccupied table to enjoy his food in peace, who should sit down across from him but Linhardt himself.

“There you are,” Felix growled. 

“Here I am.” Linhardt raised his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I was looking for you.”

“Oh, my apologies. I found a nice walking path behind the monastery and fell asleep beneath a tree.” He gave a quick half-smile, which faded when Felix’s expression did not soften. “What do you need?”

“Earlier, why did you do the thing you did?”

“Oh, you know,” Linhardt said, pushing his vegetables around with his fork. “Academic curiosity.”

_ “Academic-” _

“In all honesty,” Linhardt went on, “I was exceedingly sleep deprived this morning. It had been more than two days since I’d slept at all. When I woke up from my nap this afternoon, I realized I wouldn’t have acted as I had if I hadn’t been as tired.”

“You did that because you were  _ tired?” _

“No,” Linhardt said, very matter-of-factly. “I simply mean my inhibitions were lower than they might otherwise have been. Had I caught you in that compromising position under normal circumstances, I believe I would have given some cutting remark and left you to your business. Frankly, I can’t believe I had the audacity to do what I did.” He smiled again. “Although it worked out fairly well, in the end.”

Felix stared, watching as Linhardt casually speared a chunk of food and popped it into his mouth. Then he shook his head. “I don’t  _ get _ you.”

“That’s not the first time I’ve heard that, oddly enough,” Linhardt said. “When do you normally train, by the way? Do you go every morning?”

“Yeah,” Felix said, then paused. “Why?”

Linhardt said nothing, but his smile grew a fraction larger.

“What’s  _ wrong _ with you,” Felix said, looking away. “You  _ liked _ that? You - you didn’t even get off.”

“Not at the time, no,” Linhardt said. It drove Felix crazy, how calm his tone was, even when they were discussing  _ this.  _ “But yes, I did like it.”

“I go to the training grounds every morning, but I never do  _ that _ there,” Felix said, glaring. “This morning was the first time. I normally do it in my room, so  _ don’t  _ go following me around hoping for something weird to happen again.”

“In your room,” Linhardt echoed. “Well, consider this your invitation to get off in  _ my  _ room, too. But not tonight. I badly need to sleep.” 

Linhardt rose to his feet. He’d eaten maybe three bites, but apparently that was enough. Felix watched as he walked away, setting his plate down with the other dirty dishes and leaving the dining hall entirely. 

Felix hadn’t eaten anything yet himself. The whole conversation had unsettled him; he felt horribly on-edge. But he forced himself to finish off the food on his plate, because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have the energy he needed to train and fight the next day.

He wondered how Linhardt got by with barely any food at dinner and no sleep for days. Obviously not very well.  _ Idiot, _ Felix thought. He cut through his steak with too much force; his knife made an awful scraping sound against the plate, and he winced. 

By now Felix should have been used to people throwing him off his rhythm, yet, somehow, he wasn’t. He knew he’d be thinking about Linhardt for at least the rest of the day, and that irked him more than anything.

\---

Felix put off masturbating for as long as he could. He made it almost a week, but it took everything he had. Towards the end, he was so sensitive it felt as if any ghosting touch, any brush of fabric sent all the blood in his body rushing to his cock. Felix wished he could live in a body without needs, a body that didn’t betray him. 

When at last he wrapped his hand around his own cock, Felix sighed in relief. After depriving himself for so long, the sensation felt amazing. And yet, as he jerked himself off, he couldn’t help but imagine a different hand instead of his own - a softer one, paler and long-fingered - and how good it had felt to have someone else touch him like that. Felix got off replaying that scene in his head: the genuine curiosity in Linhardt’s voice when he’d asked Felix if he was enjoying himself, the way his eyes had flitted up and down to take all of Felix in.

Afterwards, Felix’s body felt sleepy and relaxed, but his mind was churning. He’d gotten off imagining another man -  _ Linhardt _ of all people. And, worse - much worse! - Felix wanted nothing more than to take him up on his offer. 

_ I won’t,  _ he thought, but he imagined that elegant, uncalloused hand again, and shivered.

\---

Again he put off touching himself. Again he suffered. 

But this time, he gave in. 

It was evening when he knocked on Linhardt’s door, and there was a not insignificant part of him that hoped the knock would go unanswered. But no, there was Linhardt, his hair hanging loose around his shoulders, a book in his hand. 

He blinked in surprise when he saw Felix. “What do you need?”

“That thing you said - that offer -”

“Oh,” Linhardt said, his eyes widening. “Really?”

Felix took a half-step back reflexively. “Was it a joke?”

“No. Absolutely not.” 

Linhardt stepped aside to let him in. As he crossed the room’s threshold, Felix felt as if he was stepping past a point of no return. The incident at the training grounds had happened in a flash; he hadn’t had time to think about it properly - or so Felix had told himself. But this, this was a decision he was making after days of deliberation. He could not so easily explain this away.

Once he was inside, Felix hardly had time to slip off his shoes before Linhardt was ushering him to the bed. “Sit,” Linhardt said, and sat down too once Felix obeyed. “Just to make entirely sure, you came here because you want me to jerk you off, correct?”

“Ugh,” Felix said, his face furrowing into a deep frown. “What do you  _ think.” _

“I did say I wanted to be  _ entirely _ sure. How embarrassing would it be to start and find we had different visions of how this meeting would go?”

“Whatever.” 

“How do you usually begin?” Linhardt asked. “When you masturbate, I mean. I missed that part when I caught you before.”

“Not really,” Felix mumbled. “You came over when I had just started.” And what kind of a question  _ was _ that, anyhow? How did  _ anyone _ start something like that? How many different ways  _ were _ there?

“Show me,” Linhardt said. 

Felix glared. “I’m not even hard yet, idiot.” 

“I see.” Instead of being annoyed at Felix’s angry tone, Linhardt had the gall to actually look  _ curious. _ “How do you go about making yourself hard?”

“Uh.” Felix stared down at his own knees, because it was easier than looking at Linhardt directly. “Sometimes when I train it just happens by itself. But usually I just think of, like - touching myself, things like that.”

“Do you think of another person?”

Felix shook his head. He did not mention what had gone through his head last time.

“At the training grounds, when you said it just ‘happens’ - is that a frequent occurrence?”

“Kind of.” Felix felt his cheeks burning, but somehow it wasn’t so bad to actually speak about this. He’d never had another person be so curious about him before. “When my body gets moving, it feels like it happens on its own. It’s not - it’s not that I get aroused by training. My body just does that.”

“And do you get aroused by talking about getting aroused?”

Linhardt’s voice had a strange, almost playful tone. Felix looked at him, confused, and followed his gaze: it was focused on Felix’s crotch - more specifically on his erection, which was visible through his pants. 

Felix hadn’t even realized. “Damn it,” he said, his face burning. 

“But isn’t that good?” Linhardt said. “You can begin now.”

Felix looked at him again. Linhardt’s cheeks were a little flushed - maybe he was embarrassed by the situation, too. “You really want me to?” Felix asked him. “If you changed your mind, I can leave, you know.”

“I haven’t,” Linhardt said. “What made you think that?”

Felix shrugged and turned away.

Really, it should have been more difficult to touch himself in someone else’s presence. Felix should never have been there in the first place, but he should absolutely  _ not  _ have been able to reach his hand into his pants and take hold of his dick. And when he caught Linhardt’s eye, he should  _ not  _ have pulled his pants down lower, low enough to let his cock spring free, even if it  _ was _ just to give himself better access. 

Felix was just touching himself; it shouldn’t have felt any different from normal, but oddly enough it felt as if he had a fever, like his skin might be hot to the touch. Just knowing that someone else was watching him - that someone  _ wanted _ to watch him - made him get fully hard so quickly he felt almost dizzy.  _ What’s  _ **_wrong_ ** _ with me, _ Felix thought, his hand beginning to move. He thumbed the slit, using the precum already beading there to make the slide of his hand smoother.

When he was alone, Felix never went this slowly. Usually, he jerked off to jerk off - he pushed himself to orgasm as fast as he could go. But now, for some reason he could not explain, Felix wanted to draw the act out, to revel in it, to see how much pleasure his own hand could bring him. 

It was a minute or so later that Linhardt reached forward and took over. Felix had begun to think Linhardt was going to simply watch him - and in all honesty, he wouldn’t have minded. But when Linhardt’s hand took Felix’s place, Felix was reminded of why he’d gone into that room in the first place: the feeling of someone else’s touch was so different, so striking. It was just another hand, no different from his own in any substantial way, but it felt a world apart, a world  _ better. _

“You’re more expressive when someone else touches you,” Linhardt said. Felix groaned.

Just like the last time they’d done this, he felt his orgasm coming on too fast for his liking. He considered telling Linhardt to stop - but he hesitated a moment, and a moment was all it took for the question to be moot. 

Felix came  _ hard, _ which wasn’t especially surprising, considering how long he’d gone without touching himself. His orgasm seemed to last forever; it went on so long that by the time it was over, he felt winded, as if he’d been training for hours.

When he’d caught his breath, Felix looked over at Linhardt. Just like the first time this had happened, he was looking intently at Felix’s spend all over his hands.

“Gross,” Felix said. “What’s so interesting about that, anyways?”

“Plenty. In fact, I would like to study it.”

“You-”

“Had I known you’d be coming here for this purpose, I would have brought a vial to my room,” Linhardt said, as casually as if they were discussing the weather. “But no matter.” He pulled out a handkerchief and began cleaning his hands off in a series of delicate swipes. “Tell me: will there be another time?” 

_ Say no, _ Felix’s brain screamed. But he couldn’t lie. “Yeah. Probably.”

“Oh,  _ excellent.” _

“Look, what about…” Felix gestured vaguely with a hand. “What about yourself?”

“What  _ about _ myself?”

The words wanted to stick in Felix’s throat, but he blundered on regardless. “You got me off, but what about you? You don’t get anything out of this - this arrangement.”

“I assure you, I get plenty out of it.” Linhardt smiled. “But I know you’re referring to physical benefits. You’re offering to return the favor?”

Felix nodded. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to touch Linhardt’s dick or not, just knew that it made him feel selfish not to at least offer. Sure, Linhardt might go on about  _ academic curiosity _ or whatever, but that wasn’t the same as getting off.

“I appreciate the offer,” Linhardt said. “However, I will have to decline.”

“Okay.”

Linhardt rose to his feet. “I have some reading I need to finish up, but if you are quiet you can stay here. I can hardly imagine why you would want to, though. It will be quite boring, I’m sure.” 

“Wait.”

Linhardt looked at him, evidently surprised. “Hm?”

“Why don’t you want me to…” Felix waved his hand. “Are you not - you know…” 

Linhardt raised his eyebrows. “You have to complete your sentences for me to understand them.”

Felix’s frown deepened, though he was far angrier at his own inability to speak plainly than at what Linhardt had said. “I mean, are you not attracted to men? Why don’t you want me to jerk you off?”

“Ah,” Linhardt said. “You’re experiencing feelings of insecurity.”

“I’m not-”

“I assure you, I’m plenty aroused,” Linhardt went on, ignoring Felix’s interjection. “I find myself more attracted to you than I’d anticipated. So to answer your question: it’s just that I would rather not be touched.”

“Oh,” Felix said again. He swallowed. “Okay.”

“So, as I was saying, you can leave, or stay if you’re able to be quiet - but soon I am going to resume my reading, and I’d really prefer not to be interrupted.”

Felix decided to leave. Even though Linhardt had made it clear not to take it personally, making an offer and being turned down still felt like a rejection to Felix. Logically he knew he should view it as a  _ good _ thing that Linhardt had turned him down: it was less work for him, after all. And it wasn’t like he was attracted to Linhardt, anyways - he’d offered more out of politeness than anything else. 

But he wasn’t used to being rejected, and it put a sour taste in his mouth.

Felix stayed away for another week, though he did jerk off several times alone. He wasn’t ashamed anymore to find himself fantasizing about Linhardt; it was only natural, really, with how good Linhardt’s hand felt, how intense the sensations had been. Felix touched himself and chased that bliss, closing his eyes and imagining he wasn’t alone in the room - that if he looked, he’d see Linhardt’s cool, calculating gaze fixed on him.

He stayed away an arbitrary amount of time, long enough to teach Linhardt some imaginary lesson that Felix himself didn’t know. He didn’t want Linhardt to think he was desperate, perhaps - or he wanted to convince himself he wasn’t. But finally, after a damn long day, he gave in once more and knocked on Linhardt’s door.

Linhardt opened it quickly. Behind him was Caspar, sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by books and papers; when he met Felix’s eyes, he raised his eyebrows.

Linhardt opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word, Felix turned and left.

He didn’t want to have to think up some excuse for why he was there, or hear what lie Linhardt might invent. He  _ definitely _ didn’t want to face what would happen if Linhardt decided to tell the truth. Wouldn’t that be  _ just like _ him, too? He’d probably tell Caspar everything with a straight face, as if it was the most normal thing in the world… 

Unexpectedly running into someone else made Felix realize all over again how fucking strange it was in the first place, this thing he and Linhardt were doing. That he felt ashamed was probably a sign he should stop - it wasn’t an emotion Felix liked to feel.

\---

That night, as he was lying fully awake in bed, there was a knock on Felix’s door. As he grabbed the handle to open it, Felix had the split-second realization he was  _ hoping  _ it was Linhardt on the other side. 

It was. “May I come in?” he asked, his tone polite.

Felix moved aside. The room was still utterly dark; Linhardt conjured a little orb of magelight, which hovered above their heads, casting deep, dramatic shadows. 

“When you knocked earlier, I was helping Caspar with his homework,” Linhardt said.

Felix grunted.

“You didn’t have to leave so abruptly, you know. I wouldn’t have minded if you’d stayed.”

“What did you tell him about why I was there?”

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Linhardt said. “I didn’t know how to explain why you came and left without a word. He assumed you knocked on the wrong door accidentally and ran off in embarrassment.”

Close enough. “Alright.”

They stood in silence for a few seconds. Then Linhardt cleared his throat. “Did you knock on my door because you wanted me to jerk you off?” 

Felix nodded.

“Do you still want me to?” 

He nodded again, and Linhardt closed the distance between them. For a moment it seemed as if Linhardt was going to kiss him, but he was just guiding him onto the bed, his touch gentle but firm.

Linhardt didn’t start off slow and teasing this time, or ask for Felix to touch himself first. He brought a hand up to Felix’s crotch and began to rub him through his clothing; Felix’s body did not take long at all to respond. He grinded against Linhardt’s hand. Even just this felt damn good; he’d probably come in his pants if they kept this up for long enough.

But that wasn’t what Linhardt was here for, was it? 

“Did you bring a vial?” Felix said, his voice coming out low and breathy.

“Oh, yes.” Linhardt fished in his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a tiny glass bottle. “Thank you for the reminder. Will you remove your pants?” 

It was later at night than they’d ever done this before, and Felix, already in his nightclothes, felt half naked to begin with. What was the harm, really, of removing everything? 

He slid his pants down over his hips and tossed them to the floor, then a second later took his shirt off as well. Linhardt was still fully dressed, and did not move to remove any clothing; it made Felix feel like he truly was a specimen being studied.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his legs going off the side; to his surprise Linhardt knelt on the ground between them, one hand holding the vial, the other stroking Felix’s cock. “I’m going to use my mouth,” Linhardt said, “but I  _ need  _ you to tell me when you’re close to orgasm.” 

“You’re going to  _ what?” _

“I’m going to use my mouth in addition to my hand. Look, you have to tell me before you come, alright? If it gets in my mouth, the sample will be contaminated. Felix, can you do that?”

It would be easier to comprehend his words, Felix thought, if Linhardt’s damn hand had stopped moving; but it did not - it even began to pick up the pace, as if Linhardt was impatient. _ “Yes,”  _ Felix said at last, the word coming out too much like a moan.

“Good.”

Linhardt did not put his entire mouth on Felix’s cock all at once: he kissed the tip, then ran his tongue across the slit as if tasting it. Felix resisted the urge to throw his head back and groan - it already felt so good, the warmth and the wetness. And when Linhardt slipped his lips around it, when he slid more of it inside his mouth - when Felix could feel Linhardt’s  _ throat  _ from the inside - he almost couldn’t  _ stand  _ it, it was so good. 

Linhardt, his movements a little clumsy, was clearly learning as he went. Felix didn’t mind. He forced himself to keep his eyes open, because even though the eye contact was almost too much for him to take, he wanted to burn this image in his mind: his cock was  _ in Linhardt’s mouth.  _ Felix knew what he would be thinking about the next time he jerked himself off.

A short time later - far too short a time, really - Linhardt pulled off entirely. “My jaw hurts,” he said, by way of explanation, and switched back to his hand. But it didn’t matter all that much in the end, because with how wet it was, and how close he’d already gotten, Felix knew it wouldn’t take long. 

“I’m going to come,” he told Linhardt, the words barely loud enough to be audible; and Linhardt brough the little jar up to catch his release. Now, finally, Felix closed his eyes and let himself be lost in pleasure, even heard himself moaning as Linhardt jerked him through his orgasm.

When he opened his eyes, Linhardt was cleaning cum off the floor with his handkerchief. Some of it had gotten into the bottle, but apparently it was not a precise art. By the time Felix had caught his breath, Linhardt had finished and re-corked it; he got to his feet, the magelight following his motions. 

Felix swallowed, watching him. “Do - do you want me to…”

Linhardt shook his head. “By the way,” he said levelly, “if you’d like, we can start doing this in your room from now on. I can come find you when I’m awake and available, that way you won’t run into Caspar again.”

Felix nodded. “Sure.”

“Not that I mind you knocking on my door,” Linhardt added. “But you did look incredibly uncomfortable when you ran into Caspar earlier.”

“I - I just wasn’t expecting him.” 

“Clearly.” Linhardt stepped towards the door, the magelight hovering at his shoulder like a firefly. “Well, I hope you have a good night. I certainly will.” He held up the little bottle, which Felix tried not to look at too closely. “Thank you again. This really will help my studies, believe it or not.”

“Night,” Felix said, lying down in bed and pulling the blankets back over himself. He hadn’t even gotten re-dressed, but he didn’t have the energy to do so anymore, or the will. As soon as Linhardt left, the room was thrown into blackness.

\---

Felix did not see Linhardt at all the following day. When finally they met next the day after that, he looked exhausted. 

“So far my experiments have been entirely fruitless,” Linhardt said. He’d taken a seat across from Felix at dinner; luckily there was no one else at the table to question what they were discussing. “I have tried everything I can think of, but for now I believe I’m at a dead end.” 

Felix grunted. He had no inclination to hear more.

“In any event, your help was greatly appreciated.”

Just like the last time they’d shared a meal, Linhardt got up after barely eating any of it, left the dining hall and meandered off to who-knew-where. Felix watched him go, feeling strangely sad.

\---

He thought that was the end of it - that that short shared meal was Linhardt’s way of saying goodbye. Felix had served his purpose; Linhardt had taken a sample, gotten all the use he could out of it, and now Felix would be tossed aside.

He was not expecting a knock on his door a few hours after dinner, after he’d returned from his evening training session. He invited Linhardt inside a little warily. “Need another sample?” he asked, his voice coming out harsher than he’d expected.

“Hm? Oh no, I thought I mentioned it earlier - I’m abandoning those studies for the moment.” Linhardt yawned. “As of right now, I do not think I can derive any effects of Crests from the semen of Crest-bearers. If you’re interested, I can tell you more.” 

“No,” Felix said.

Linhardt hummed, looking as if he’d expected that answer. “If I think of more experiments to try sometime in the future, I’d appreciate another sample,” he went on. “For now, continuing simply seems like a dead end. It’s my hypothesis that the effects of Crests can be seen only in living people, not the fluids they create.”

Felix nodded and said nothing. He was expecting Linhardt to turn around and go, but instead the man spoke again: “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m wondering why you’re here.”

Linhardt raised his eyebrows. “I thought you said it was fine if I came to your room?”

“But  _ why?”  _

“I’m not used to you playing dumb, Felix. I’m not really sure how to react.” 

“I’m not playing dumb!” Felix said, his voice coming out louder than he’d intended. “You said yourself you were finished with your little experiment, so why did you even come to my room? Was it just to tell me that?”

“Oh.” Linhardt’s expression softened. “Felix, I told you I  _ enjoyed _ myself, didn’t I? Getting a sample to study was an unexpected bonus.” Maybe Felix’s face still betrayed his skepticism, because Linhardt took another step towards him. “From the beginning, my interest was mainly due to being attracted to you. When I saw you at the training grounds that first day, I wasn’t prescient enough to think, ‘Hm, I wonder if I can use this situation to get a sample of his semen.’ No, I saw you masturbating and thought it would be enjoyable to insert myself into the situation. And it was.”

“But,” Felix said, blushing, “even then, you talked about  _ academic curiosity.” _

“Curiosity? Yes. Academic?” Linhardt snorted. “Hardly.”

Felix wasn’t sure what to say; he started at Linhardt, trying to make sense of it. 

“Look, Felix, I don’t know just how studious you think I am, but I assure you I  _ do  _ sometimes do things for reasons besides the simple joy of learning. And I’m not afraid to say it outright: I find you very attractive and I like getting you off.”

Felix, well… he could understand that. Except - “Even if you don’t get off yourself?”

“What makes you think I don’t?” Linhardt smiled wryly. “Certainly you  _ do _ help with that.” 

“But why don’t you let me do it myself?”

Linhardt’s smile faltered. “I don’t know,” he said. “I feel completely comfortable touching you, but I don’t want you to touch me yet.” 

“I’m not like the Boar, you know,” Felix said. “Even though I have a Major Crest, I’ve never had any issues controlling my strength. I don’t break things accidentally like he does.”

“I know,” Linhardt said quickly. “It isn’t out of fear that you’d hurt me.” 

“Oh.”

“Like I said, I don’t really understand it, myself.” He shrugged. “I came here today to see if you wanted me to jerk you off again. Or, if you’d prefer, I can use my mouth. I enjoyed that very much, up until my jaw got sore. But I don’t want you to return the favor - I don’t want you to touch me in return. So do you want me to touch you still, knowing that?”

Felix thought about the offer. He didn’t understand why Linhardt was the way he was - how  _ could  _ he, if Linhardt himself didn’t? - and he wasn’t sure whether he should take it personally. “Am I the first person you’ve done any of these things to?”

Linhardt nodded quickly. “Yes. I’ve never touched another person sexually, man or woman. And, before you ask: no, I’ve never  _ been _ touched sexually, either, which is perhaps where my trepidation comes from.” 

It did make Felix feel better to know Linhardt’s reservation wasn’t because of him personally. Linhardt went on: “I’ve thought about it numerous times, ever since the first day you offered to reciprocate. I have theories about it, but, for now, it is what it is.”

Felix sat down on the bed. Why was he so hung up on being able to touch Linhardt, anyways? Now that he knew he himself wasn’t the cause, shouldn’t that just be the end of it? If anyone was getting a raw deal here, it was Linhardt; Felix was getting all of the benefits without having to do any of the work. 

What was  _ wrong _ with him? He was being offered pleasure with no strings attached and was honestly thinking about saying no. Why?

“Felix?” Linhardt said, when he was silent too long. 

Felix’s body told him to say yes; his cock had grown half hard just from thinking about Linhardt’s offer. But he was confused, and because of that he was wary of making any kind of decision until he could think it over more. He needed time to go over what Linhardt had said, time to consider it - and time to reflect upon why he was hesitating at all, why it was not enough simply to be gotten off. It should have been enough!

“No,” Felix said at last. “No. I don’t want that.”

Linhardt’s eyebrows shot up, but he just nodded and turned towards the door. “Very well,” he said over his shoulder. “As I said before, do feel free to visit my room if you ever change your mind.”

After he left, Felix sat on the edge of his bed for a long time - long enough for his candle to burn itself out - but he didn’t find the clarity he was seeking. When the room was cast into darkness at last, he lay down, but it took him a long, long time to fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, this chapter contains descriptions of violence. I don't think it's enough to merit an archive warning, but I didn't want anyone to get blindsided.

Linhardt no longer knocked on Felix’s door. This was not a surprise; this time, Felix had been the one to give the rejection. It was natural that Linhardt should stay away. Anything happening between them again hinged entirely on Felix. 

But the more he thought of what he’d given up, the less he wanted it, and that baffled him. Of course the things Linhardt had done had felt good - they’d felt  _ amazing, _ far better than using his own hand did. But the dynamic had been so unbalanced, with Felix naked and Linhardt fully clothed, Linhardt’s hands and mouth on Felix and Felix completely unable to reciprocate. It was that lack of balance that made Felix feel so disarmed.

He’d been happy to hear he wasn’t just an experiment, happy to hear of Linhardt’s attraction to him - yet, when he’d realized it didn’t mean things would change, his heart had sunk.

And now here he was, always half waiting for a knock that he knew would never come. Hoping for it like a damned idiot, and why?

_ Why? _

That he didn’t know was the worst part of all.

\---

Felix could never let himself get too caught up in his own head - there was still a war going on. In a battle there was only ever room for the battle itself. It made all of Felix’s other problems seem far-away; it cleared his head, refreshed him.

He liked battles for that reason, liked them more than he knew he should. He could lose himself in the fighting, as a dancer might lose himself in the rhythm of a song. Yet all it took was one misstep to lose that rhythm. With how many battles they had, Felix knew the day was bound to come sooner or later.

In this particular battle he had slashed a man’s arm and hand, making him drop his weapon; then he’d turned to the next man. But, rather than being out of the fight when he’d lost his weapon, the first man had pulled out a hidden dagger. When Felix’s attention was turned, he snuck up behind Felix and slashed at his throat.

Felix, shocked by the sudden blossom of pain, was nevertheless still in control enough to finish off both of the men he was fighting. Then he reached a hand up to his neck and felt the wetness there - felt it bleeding down the collar of his shirt and soaking his clothes…

It wasn’t deep enough to kill him straightaway, but if he didn’t get healed soon he was going to bleed out. Felix made his way as fast as he could towards the healers he knew were waiting at the back of the line. It seemed to take forever; Felix had to dodge friends and foes alike, and everything felt so far away, as if it was happening to someone else. 

But then finally,  _ finally, _ he saw Linhardt. When their eyes met Linhardt grew terribly pale, and for a second Felix was worried he was going to faint at the sight of blood, as he sometimes used to. But, no, it seemed that old bad habit was broken for good: Linhardt was there in a moment, the healing spell already on his lips. Felix felt himself sag, felt his sword drop from his hands and land on the ground with a muffled thump. And then he fell, too, collapsing bodily against Linhardt - unconscious, but alive.

\---

Felix awoke with a dry throat and a pounding headache, but, more importantly, he awoke in a bed. He cracked an eye open and instantly recognized his surroundings as the monastery’s infirmary. That meant he’d been out for the entire trip home from the battlefield. How much time had passed since he’d been injured, Felix had no idea. He felt like he’d been run over by a carriage.

He raised his head and looked around stiffly. The room was busy, with all the other beds filled. Manuela was tending to someone at the other end of the room; two beds over, Mercedes was helping Ingrid rewrap an injured arm. She gave a quick wave when she saw Felix was awake, and Ingrid nodded in his direction. Felix nodded back, then paused.

In the corner of the room, Linhardt was curled up in a chair. He was asleep, and entirely in shadow; Felix hadn’t noticed him at first. He felt a strange rush of emotion at seeing Linhardt there in the room with him: happiness at seeing he’d survived the battle, and, oddly, nervousness, the source of which he couldn’t place.

“He healed you,” Mercedes said, sitting down lightly at the edge of his bed.

“I remember,” Felix said. “Some bastard cut my throat.”

“I didn’t see the injury, because Linhardt had already fixed you up by the time I got there. I helped change your clothes, though, and washed you up a bit,” Mercedes said. “You were such a mess, all covered in blood.”

At any other time, he might have felt embarrassed at the thought of Mercedes seeing him naked, but not now. He was too tired for that, and too grateful. “I didn’t think I’d make it.”

“You almost didn’t,” Mercedes said. “You lost quite a lot of blood, and the healing took a lot out of you besides. You’ve been asleep for a full day.”

Felix looked across the room. Judging from the light coming in through the windows, it was late afternoon. But no matter how long he’d slept, he still could barely keep his eyes open. “Water?”

“Of course!” Mercedes seemed to conjure a cup and pitcher out of nowhere. Felix was able to hold the cup himself, thank the goddess, but when he handed it back to her, his hands shook. 

“You’re going to be weak for a little while,” Mercedes said. “Please give yourself time to rest. We healers can patch up wounds, but we can’t give you that blood back.”

“I  _ know  _ that,” Felix said, sounding grumpier than he meant to. 

Mercedes smiled, like he’d said something funny. “You look like you’re about to fall right back asleep. If you want to rest, you should let yourself.” 

Felix nodded. The idea sounded wonderful. Soon, he’d have the energy to think, to plan out how he’d get back to full strength, to feel sorry for himself and rage at his own weakness. For now, he could rest.

Just before he drifted back to sleep, Felix glanced across the room and snuck one final glance at Linhardt. He was still asleep; his long legs were curled tightly against his chest, and his mouth had fallen open. Felix did not let himself question why that made him smile.

\---

By the next day, he was feeling much better - well enough to get up and walk around, even, although he was dogged by Mercedes, who tried to herd him back to bed.

“Really, I’m  _ fine,” _ Felix said. “Look. I can walk. I really think it’s alright to let me leave. I don’t want to take up a bed in the infirmary any longer than I need to.”

“You would do just fine sleeping in your own bed,” Mercedes said. “But, Felix, I know you too well to fall for that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If I let you out of my sight, you’d be at the training grounds before you even made it to the dormitory!”

Felix huffed out a laugh. “I won’t lie - that crossed my mind.”

“See!”

“But I promise I won’t. Not for  _ at least _ a day.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

_ “Three!”  _ she repeated, her eyes gleaming. “Felix, you are not going to lose this battle with me. I promise you, I’m as stubborn as you are. Three days! If you don’t promise me, I won’t let you leave my sight! Or,” she added, her voice dropping low, “I’ll send Linhardt after you.”

Felix blinked, surprised. He hadn’t seen Linhardt since the previous day; once Felix had woken up again, he’d been gone. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, nothing,” Mercedes said, her voice ominously sing-songy. “Felix, there will be  _ no  _ compromising on my part. Three days. Do you promise?”

“I promise. Now let me go.”

“Alright, you’re free!” She smiled warmly at him. “Eat lots of meat and veggies. Remember, your body needs to remake all that blood you lost.”

“Thank you,” Felix said, turning away. Normally he couldn’t stand being coddled, but at least with Mercedes, he knew the powerfully good intent behind it, and that made it easier to take.

\---

Felix did want to go to the training grounds, but only in theory. In reality, he knew Mercedes was right: his body wasn’t ready. Even just standing unsupported took effort; he was still so frustratingly tired.  _ Your body’s working hard! _ Mercedes would probably say. But Felix hated this lack of control, hated himself for having gotten injured so stupidly. Hated being weak.

He was lying in bed, absolutely  _ not _ moping, when there was a knock at the door. Normally he would have gotten up to get it, but it was far too much effort under the circumstances. Instead he called out: “Come in.”

It was Linhardt. Felix struggled into a sitting position. 

“Don’t feel like you have to sit up on my account,” Linhardt said, stepping inside.

“Linhardt.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.” Felix had been holding that in for days now. 

Linhardt looked at him quizzically. “For what?”

“If you hadn’t healed me, I would have died.”

“If I hadn’t you, Mercedes would have done so instead. She was right behind me, you know. I just happened to get there first.” Linhardt seemed to be preoccupied by a loose string on the sleeve of his robe. “You don’t need to thank me. When have you ever thanked a healer before? It’s our role, like fighting is yours. It looks like your injury is healing well, though,” he said, glancing up at Felix’s neck. “You might not even have a scar.”

“Yeah.”  _ So let me thank you, _ Felix wanted to say. But then he took a closer look at Linhardt: in the fading light coming through the window, Felix could see the furrow in his brow, the frown on his face. “What do you need?”’

“I don’t need anything,” Linhardt said. He was still standing in the middle of Felix’s room, playing with that loose string again like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. “I was just coming to see how you were recovering.”

“I’m doing fine.”

“Did you rush off to the training grounds as soon as you were able?”

_ “No,” _ Felix said, annoyed. “Mercedes gave me the same talk. I’m not an idiot.” 

Linhardt hummed mildly. “I’m glad.”

_ What do you actually want? _ Felix wanted to scream.  _ Why are you here? _ He felt vaguely alarmed: there was something odd about Linhardt’s tone and expression, something Felix hadn’t seen from him before. It was almost as if Linhardt was acting, like this light, genial tone was a farce. But what it was hiding, Felix had no idea.

So he swallowed down the annoyance bubbling up in his chest and patted the edge of his bed.

“Oh, thank you.” Linhardt sat down lightly and rested his hands in his lap.

Being patient was not in Felix’s nature, but this felt important - so he waited.

Finally Linhardt spoke. “You collapsed against me as I was doing the healing spell, and I thought you were really dead. There was so much blood - I thought there was no way a person could lose that much and still be alive.” He turned to look directly at Felix, his expression very serious. “Even when I healed you, you didn’t wake up. I suppose you were just unconscious, but I thought - well, you know.

“And in those moments, when I thought you were dead, I was… very alarmed.” Linhardt paused, frowning. “‘Alarmed’ is perhaps not the right word. It was an  _ awful  _ feeling. Of course I’ve seen people die - we’re at war. But we’ve been lucky, insofar as none of our classmates have died.” Felix heard the unspoken  _ yet. _ “Frankly, when I thought you’d been the first, I became… slightly hysterical. Perhaps it will be funny to look back on in the future, but at the moment I cannot even find it in myself to be embarrassed at my behavior. Thinking about seeing you that way still makes me feel miserable. Some of that feeling stayed with me, even after I realized you were alive.

“I don’t know what that means,” Linhardt went on. “I suppose I must examine my feelings for you more deeply. How frustrating it is, to feel things so vividly and not understand why.”

“Are you telling me…” Felix began, but stopped. He wasn’t sure  _ what _ Linhardt was telling him. But he understood the pain of experiencing emotions and not understanding them.

“I’m not especially good at this, if you couldn’t tell,” Linhardt said. “I can’t write a poem or compose a song. I can’t even tell you precisely how I feel. All I can say is, in light of the way I felt when I believed you’d died, you are very important to me.”

For a few seconds, all Felix could do was stare. Then: “Was that a confession?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“You  _ think?” _ Felix sighed. “You’re confusing…”

“I am. You should be used to this by now.” Linhardt blinked at him owlishly. “Say, can I kiss you?” 

_ “What?” _

“Or touch your hand, or your arm. Or your hair? It’s been a while since I last touched you, and I find myself greatly missing it - but I also don’t know if, in your current state, sexual activities would be a good idea.” 

Felix stared at him. As far as he could tell, Linhardt was being completely serious. “Of course you can - you can do those things,” he said. Somehow it was too embarrassing to repeat what Linhardt had said aloud. 

“Oh, good,” Linhardt said.

“I thought you didn’t want to.”

“Not at first, not especially,” Linhardt said. “But a consequence of spending time in your presence seems to be that I desire to touch you more and more.”

_ So what are you waiting for? _ Felix wanted to ask. Linhardt was looking at him so intently it made him shiver, but doing no more than that. It was enough to make Felix crazy. So, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he leaned forward and kissed Linhardt on the lips.

It was a bad kiss, messy and off-center and much too hard; their teeth knocked together, and he heard Linhardt hiss in pain or surprise. Felix broke apart and turned his face away. “Sorry,” he said, half waiting for Linhardt to get up.

“Felix, look at me.”

Felix turned back towards him. When Linhardt kissed him this time, it was slower and much gentler. Their teeth did not clack. Linhardt’s lips were thin, but soft; a lock of his hair brushed Felix’s cheek.

Felix thought Linhardt would pull away after a moment, but he did not. They kept kissing; Linhardt took one of Felix’s lips between his teeth and tugged gently, and a moment later Felix imitated the motion, which earned a sharp intake of breath from Linhardt. The sound made Felix’s stomach twist pleasantly.

Linhardt raised a hand and put it on Felix’s cheek, and, slowly, unsure if he was going too far, Felix did the same to Linhardt - but Linhardt did not pull away at that, either. It was the first time Felix had ever placed his hand on Linhardt’s bare skin. It felt smooth and soft beneath his fingers, warm with Linhardt’s body heat. 

Felix wanted more - much more. He wanted to run his hands all over Linhardt and touch his bare skin everywhere he could. The intense wanting came over him suddenly, like a wave, and was so strong Felix could suddenly think of nothing else. He pulled back from the kiss, breathing hard.

“You’re letting me touch you now,” Felix said - half observation, half question.

Linhardt nodded, his eyes dark.

“I want to - where can I-” Felix broke off to gather his thoughts, and licked his lips. They felt swollen and hot, and he liked it. “Where can I touch you?” 

Linhardt looked conflicted, and Felix’s heart dropped as he anticipated another rejection. “Felix,” Linhardt said slowly, “you’re still just recovering. I truly don’t think doing anything more than this is a good idea, not at the moment.”

“Oh,” Felix said. “Because - because of my wound?”

“Yes.”

Felix nodded. That, he could deal with. “But my hand on your cheek, you didn’t mind?”

“No,” Linhardt said. “I enjoyed that.”

“And kissing?”

_ “Obviously _ I enjoyed it,” Linhardt said. _ “I’m _ not the one who pulled away.”

So Felix decided to resume what he’d prematurely ended, and reached out for Linhardt like a starving man.

\---

They did only kiss that day. When Linhardt left, Felix’s room felt cold, his bed too large. Kissing had made him half-hard; he could easily have jerked off just to the still-fresh memory of Linhardt’s taste, of the feeling of Linhardt’s skin beneath his fingertips. But he did not; he remembered Linhardt’s words about sexual activity in his condition. He didn’t know if jerking off counted, but, to be safe, he would assume it did. Felix absolutely did  _ not _ want to reopen this wound. He would hold perfectly still for days if that was what it took to make it heal.

During the days when he could not train, Felix had too much time on his hands. He slept more, but that didn’t fill all of his surplus time. So, when he had extra time he did not know how to spend, he knocked at Linhardt’s door.

They kissed, but Linhardt would not let them kiss forever. He would push Felix away, firmly but kindly, and tell him they had to stop now, he had to read this book, or finish this report, or conduct this experiment, or sleep. But Linhardt made it clear Felix was always welcome, even when he was occupied with other things; so Felix would bring a book or a knife to sharpen and lounge on the floor, content just to be in the same vicinity as Linhardt.

Felix did not let himself think too hard about what this meant. He was still basking in the happy glow of being able to touch Linhardt and be touched by him, even if (for now) it was limited to their faces. He tried not to let himself get too excited about what would happen when the red-pink stripe across his neck was fully healed. He stared at it in the mirror, wondering if enough time had passed - but knowing at the same time that if it reopened, he’d have to start all over again.

But it did heal, finally. His first time back to the training grounds after his injury, he had his work cut out for him: every single muscle in his body was weaker than he remembered, and he got tired after a frustratingly short amount of time. But he could hardly focus on his training; his mind kept wandering back to his room, his bed, to the feel of Linhardt’s skin under his hands, to the taste of Linhardt’s lips on his. He was so distracted he even dropped his sword. That made him so angry he  _ forced _ himself to concentrate; he wasn’t used to being this unfocused, and it shook him a little.

Finally, when his legs were so weak he knew he could train no longer, Felix went to the bathhouse, took the fastest bath he ever had in his life, and made his way back to his room.

He was not expecting Linhardt already to be there, sprawled across Felix’s bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. He was barefoot, and his loose hair was fanned out across Felix’s pillow. 

For a moment Felix could only stare in confusion. “I thought I locked my door.”

“You did,” Linhardt said, pushing himself slowly up into a sitting position. “I picked it.”

“Oh.” 

Linhardt smiled. Felix experienced the peculiar sensation of two emotions at once - annoyance at Linhardt just making himself at home without getting permission, and happiness at seeing him relaxed and smiling. 

Linhardt got to his feet, soundless and graceful as a cat, and made his way over to Felix. “Your injury is healing very nicely,” he said. Then he reached a hand up and touched the line on Felix’s neck, so lightly it tickled. “It doesn’t look like it’s in any danger of reopening.”

Felix made a grunt of assent, too distracted by the touch to answer coherently.

“These past few days have been hard,” Linhardt said.

“What do you mean?”

“I would rather not be reminded of the mortality of the people close to me,” Linhardt said. His palm was flat against Felix’s upper chest now, the tips of his fingers at the base of Felix’s throat, still touching the very edge of the healed wound. “And, having been reminded, I would prefer the reminder be brief and fleeting. It is not a pleasant thing to see you brought so close to death so easily.” 

“We’re in a war. People around us are going to die, sooner or later.”

“Obviously,” Linhardt said, his voice clipped. “And yet the reality of it didn’t strike me fully until now. I suppose I should count myself lucky.” He met Felix’s gaze straight on, his eyes very blue in the fading light. “Felix, may I ask you a question?”

Felix nodded.

“What do I mean to you? I’m not especially sentimental, but I have been wondering. And please be honest,” he added quickly. “If your answer is that you enjoy me getting you off and nothing more, I will not be offended. I simply find you a difficult person to read, and I would like to know.”

Felix stepped back, out of Linhardt’s touch. He could focus better that way; when Linhardt’s hands were on him, that was all he could think about. “I’m not good at this either,” he said, after a moment. “But it’s more than that.” 

Linhardt looked at him - waiting for Felix to continue. Felix swallowed, his hands suddenly clammy. “When I woke up for the first time after this,” he said, rubbing his injury, “I saw you sleeping in the infirmary. I don’t know why, but seeing you… it was comforting.”

“Because you were grateful I’d healed you?”

“No,” Felix said, “because it was  _ you.” _ He made a noise of frustration, wishing he was better at expressing his feelings with words. “Anyone else could have saved me, and it wouldn’t have mattered - I would have still been happy to see you there. Yes, you started out as just someone who got me off, but now… I still don’t understand you, but I - I don’t dislike you.”

Linhardt smiled. “You  _ don’t dislike _ me… I’m actually flattered to hear that. Coming from you, that’s a high compliment.”

“Look, you know I’m not a romantic,” Felix said. “I’m not going to tell you I love you. And, like you said, I’m not going to write a poem about you or sing you a song. But…” Felix swallowed. He couldn’t stop now; he  _ had  _ to finish this. “When we fight battles, I worry about you. When I see you made it through, it makes me feel… relieved. And when we started… doing things together, at first it was just about making myself feel good, but that - that didn’t last very long. That’s why I stopped. I didn’t want it to be just about myself anymore.”

Linhardt was looking at him so intently, Felix felt naked beneath his stare. “Good,” he said at last, and looked away. “If I was nothing more to you than a way to get off, I suppose I would have accepted that with time, but it would have stung quite a bit. I was beginning to doubt that was the case, though, considering your desire to reciprocate.” 

Felix just nodded, not knowing what to say. He wished he’d been able to reassure Linhardt without being specifically asked; even now, he didn’t know if he’d said the right thing, if his words had been enough.

“I did some thinking,” Linhardt went on, after a pause. “I still don’t fully understand it myself, but I believe my reluctance to be touched had to do with my inability to let others take the lead in issues involving myself. I don’t like to feel like I don’t have complete control over a situation, you see.” He shook his head, smiling distantly. “I can’t imagine this is all that interesting for you, so I will skip to the point, which is to say: I have changed my mind. I  _ would  _ like you to touch me, provided you still want that, too.”

Once upon a time, had someone asked him, Felix would have said Linhardt was rambling; now was honestly curious about Linhardt’s reasoning, about the many, many thoughts in that obnoxiously introspective head of his. Felix found himself honestly disappointed Linhardt had cut his speech short. Something had changed, and he wanted to understand.

But he could ask about it another time. Now it was time to act upon Linhardt’s change of heart, even if he didn’t understand what, exactly, had caused it. 

Felix surged towards Linhardt and kissed him on the mouth. After a moment Linhardt pulled back, his cheeks flushed. 

“Let me remove some layers,” he said. His tone was too nonchalant-sounding to be actually casual. “Hold on just a moment.”

So Felix watched, fascinated, as Linhardt began to strip.

Of course he’d seen other men’s naked bodies before; most of his fellow classmates were not modest when visiting the sauna, for example. But he had never seen Linhardt naked, never even seen him shirtless or wearing pants that ended above his ankles. It didn’t matter how many men Felix had seen naked before: this was Linhardt, so it was new and special, and he was transfixed.

Linhardt removed all of his clothing slowly and methodically, laying each item flat on the floor. It was not done to be seductive, but Felix was seduced anyhow. Seeing so much of Linhardt’s bare skin for the first time made him feel lightheaded, practically giddy; his hands itched with the barely-suppressed desire to touch.

“Well,” Linhardt said, when he wore only his smallclothes. “Here I am.” His cheeks were red, but the rest of him was so pale, and so _ thin. _ He certainly didn’t have a fighter’s build, Felix thought; he was lanky and delicate, and Felix wanted to grip him in his hands. 

Linhardt was waiting for something, Felix could tell, but he honestly didn’t know what to say; he could only stare. He was too nervous to make the first move now, to touch without direct invitation, but he would look as much as he could. 

“You should remove yours, as well,” Linhardt said at last. 

“Right,” Felix said, and rushed to comply. Instead of laying his clothes on the floor, he tossed them away haphazardly, not caring where they went as long as they weren’t on his body anymore. And then he was standing face to face with Linhardt, completely naked, his cock so hard it ached, wondering what was going to happen now.

Linhardt sighed lightly and slipped off the last layer of his clothing, so that he too was naked. His cock, as far as Felix could tell, was entirely normal - about the same size as Felix’s, and surrounded by dense fuzzy curls. There was nothing special about it, save who it belonged to.

Felix fell to his knees. Linhardt looked down at him, wide-eyed.

“I want to use my mouth,” Felix said.

“Oh,” Linhardt said, his eyebrows raised. “Alright.”

Felix was glad Linhardt had agreed so readily, because he wanted to do this so much he might have  _ begged  _ had Linhardt hesitated. 

Felix inched forward on his knees, reached a hand forward and took hold of Linhardt’s cock. Then, little by little, Felix slid his lips around it, seeing how much he could fit inside his mouth.

It tasted fine, musky and salty like sweat. Far more interesting than the cock itself was Linhardt’s face. Felix had never seen Linhardt lose his composure before, but now, as he slid his mouth further forward, he was finally able to see what Linhardt looked like when he did.

_ “Felix,”  _ Linhardt said. He sounded surprised. Felix hoped that was a good thing. He knew he wasn’t very good at this, but he thought back to how it had been when Linhardt had done it to him: Linhardt hadn’t been a natural, either, but it had felt amazing anyways, wet and warm and tight. So Felix tried not to think about how clumsy he probably was and focused instead on Linhardt above him, looking flushed and glassy-eyed with pleasure.

A few minutes passed, and then, abruptly, Linhardt spoke: “Felix.” His tone was different now, sharper. “Stop.”

Felix pulled off as quickly as he could without nicking him with a tooth. “What?” he asked, wiping his mouth. He had just been getting a rhythm going; his jaw did ache a bit, but he was fully prepared to push through it. 

“I… was going to come,” Linhardt said. “I’m not ready.”

“Oh.” So he  _ had _ been doing well then. Felix felt relieved, though he was confused as well. “Why don’t you want to…?”

“I want to penetrate you.” 

Linhardt reached his hand out. Felix took it and let himself be hoisted to his feet. He didn’t know what to say in response, though; he just stared at Linhardt mutely. 

“I have practiced on myself,” Linhardt went on. “I am quite certain I can make it feel very pleasurable for you.”

“You’ve practiced-”

“Penetrating myself, yes. Contrary to what you might believe, if it’s done correctly it doesn’t hurt whatsoever. It can be incredibly pleasurable, in fact. I would use oil as lubrication, and I would begin with my fingers, in order to get you acclimated to the feeling of being entered. This is assuming,” he added, “that you have never done this before. If you have, excuse me for explaining what you already know.”

“Of  _ course  _ I haven’t done this before!”

“Well, I don’t know,” Linhardt said. “Maybe you had.”

“No.” Felix frowned. “But - yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes you can - you can do that,” Felix said. “With your fingers.” Linhardt talked in such clinical terms, saying everything so bluntly; Felix found the thought of speaking that way utterly horrifying. But the thought of what Linhardt was describing, well… He hadn’t considered doing it before, but Felix found the idea had awoken a powerful curiosity in him. “I - I don’t mind.”

Linhardt brightened. “Excellent,” he said. “Please lie face down on the bed. Oh  _ shit.” _

“What?”

“I need to get the oil. It’s back in my room.”

The handful of minutes it took Linhard to get dressed and retrieve the oil might have been the longest in Felix’s life. He lay on his belly on the bed, thinking about being penetrated, about Linhardt’s fingers inside him. (And cock? He would have to ask…)

When Linhardt returned, he threw off his clothes with a carelessness that contrasted with how he’d been the first time he’d stripped. In a moment he was naked again, kneeling beside Felix on the bed. 

“I’m shocked you said yes,” Linhardt said. “Incredibly happy, of course, but still shocked. I should probably stop being surprised that you surprise me.”

“Why are you shocked?” Felix asked, turning his head to look over his shoulder at him.

“It’s a very personal thing to ask of someone.”

“Well,” Felix said, after a moment, “I trust you.”

Linhardt said nothing, but from the smile on his face and the look in his eyes, it was obvious he was pleased. Felix had to look away, or he would’ve smiled like a fool, too.

A moment later Felix heard the sound of the oil being opened. He braced himself for what he knew would come - but instead of Linhardt’s finger pressing inside, it touched the outside of him gently, sliding up and down, warm and slick with oil. Felix had not realized how sensitive he was there; even just this felt good, and he felt his body relax. 

When Linhardt did slip a finger inside, it felt - different. Linhardt had been right: it didn’t hurt. But it didn’t feel especially pleasurable, just strange. 

“Remember to relax,” Linhardt said, his voice soft.

“I  _ am _ relaxing.”

“You are,” Linhardt said. “You’re doing well.”

Felix did not want to question why  _ that _ sent a shiver of excitement down his spine.

Linhardt added more oil and another finger. His movements were languid and slow; he was truly taking his time. If Felix had tried to do this to himself, he would have done it all so quickly the stretch would have hurt.

But Linhardt did not rush. Felix buried his face in the pillow, thinking of how Linhardt was inside him, feeling inside him, exploring him… 

Three fingers and he felt a stretch; he had to consciously relax. His untouched cock was painfully hard, pressed into the bed beneath him. Everything was too much and not enough.

“Fuck me,” Felix said. 

The fingers inside him stopped suddenly. “What?”

“Instead of your fingers, use your cock.” The words felt filthy on Felix’s lips, but he didn’t want Linhard to play dumb with him - not this time. 

A pause. He’d apparently flustered Linhardt into silence. Felix turned his head to look at him again. “Do you not want to?”

“Oh, I want to,” Linhardt said. “Very much so.” His voice was throaty, the tone more raw than Felix had ever heard it. “But - are you sure…?”

“Yes,” Felix said. 

“Well. Okay.”

The fingers slipped out of him. Felix felt empty. 

There was a long moment of Linhardt applying more oil; then he was atop Felix, and Felix felt the tip of Linhardt’s cock pressed against him. 

He heard Linhardt inhale. “Are you s-”

_ “Don’t _ ask me if I’m sure,” Felix snapped, impatient. “When I say I’m sure, _ I’m sure.” _

“Good,” Linhardt said. “I like that about you.”

And he pushed inside.

At first it felt no different from his fingers, but it seemed to go on and on, and Felix groaned at the sensation of being so damn full in a way he’d never before experienced. It never turned to actual pain, but it was still very close to being too intense, regardless.

Linhardt was panting in his ear. “Ah,” he said breathlessly, “this feels incredible. Felix - it’s better than I imagined. I’ve never felt anything like this.”

“Shut up,” Felix said, but there was no bite behind it - and he nearly shivered in pleasure at hearing that half-wild tone in Linhardt’s voice. He wanted to drink it up, to memorize it. 

Then Linhardt began to move - and it felt  _ good. _

Felix hadn’t expected that kind of pleasure, not when his cock wasn’t even being touched. It was like someone was jerking him off from the inside, edging him a little closer with each of Linhardt’s thrusts. 

Felix buried his face in the pillow to hide the awful, embarrassing noises he was making, but even that couldn’t muffle all the sound. Above him, Linhardt was breathing heavily. The pace he set was faster than Felix thought him capable of moving. This was probably the most effort Linhardt had spent on anything in his life.

Felix tried not to enjoy it as much as he was, but there was no staving off his orgasm forever; and when he came, it was almost violent, like a wave - a strange deep feeling he’d never experienced, the added pleasure of his muscles tensing around Linhardt’s cock. 

Afterwards, for a few moments, it  _ was _ too much, too intense; but it did not last long. Then Linhardt was still, buried inside Felix to the hilt.

“You came?” Felix asked him.

“Yes.” Linhardt sighed, relaxing so his full weight was on Felix’s back. “That felt incredible. Now I think I will sleep forever.”

“Very funny,” Felix said, frowning.

“It wasn’t a joke, though.”

“Get off me. You’re all sweaty, and I’m hot enough as it is.”

“Ugh,  _ fine.” _

Very slowly and reluctantly, Linhardt pulled himself out of Felix and lay on the bed beside him. Felix reached out a hand, then hesitated. 

“Can I?”

Linhardt nodded.

Felix touched his bare skin, starting at the base of his neck and traveling down his chest, down his belly, to rub the line of coarse hair that trailed down from his navel. He felt the bone of Linhardt’s hip, the curve of his waist, the hard lines of his ribs. 

“It’s nice,” Linhardt said.

“What is?”

Linhardt smiled. “Being touched by you.”

It was stupid, Felix thought, that that should make him feel a wave of such intense emotions - it felt as if someone had knocked his legs out from under him, kicked him in the chest. Something was certainly wrong with him, that much was sure. This had all begun with him getting jerked off behind a pillar in the training grounds, and now a line like that had him fighting back tears.

“Well, good,” Felix said, his voice coming out too gruff.

Linhardt laughed and kissed him, and Felix decided that whatever was wrong with him, it wasn’t so bad after all. It was certainly a condition that could be endured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> If you're interested, here's my [twitter!](https://twitter.com/doop_doop2)


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